


Angel in Disguise

by China_Rose



Series: Loyalty Series [2]
Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/China_Rose/pseuds/China_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to the Ten Word challenge (Challenge No.4) on the <i>King Arthur Fan Fiction</i> Group. The following words or their derivatives were to be used in the story: Bonny, Confection, Meaty, Overbearing, Tree, Puberty, Rigor, Salvation, Series and Step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel in Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: This is a sequel to _Follow Me!!! Follow You???_ but this one can be read without reading the first one.  
>  A/N 2: Once again, may I remind my readers that I absolutely adore Tristan and Dagonet. I want to assure you that Tristan was given extra treats for being so terrorized in this story and Dagonet finally had time for a bit of fishing. As for Arthur and Guinevere, well you decide!  
> A/N 3: Italics anre used for thoughts and emphasis
> 
> Warnings: More utter nonsense and Dagonet doesn’t die  
> Beta: Thanks to Thoks, for the beta. As always any residual mistakes are mine.  
> Comments and Reviews: Always welcome  
> Disclaimer: Obviously they are not mine but they come over sometimes and play at my house, so please don’t get mad ‘cause they want to spend time with other kids.

Thank you Melissa for personalising a banner for this story.  
[](http://photobucket.com)

********************

From the moment Arthur had laid eyes on her he was besotted. To him, Guinevere looked like an angel. An ice angel covered in snowflakes from the flurries that gently swirled their treasure upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Yes, despite the dirt and grime her beauty shone through. Indeed, who would ever know the full extent of her suffering in the wretched catacomb? All he did know was that in the face of overwhelming odds, she had endured torture, humiliation and deprivation and he had saved her. Well he had had a little help from his knights, but essentially he had freed her. Now, after her salvation, she lay sleeping in the wagon, covered by furs and watched over by her rescuers, as the hapless party struggled through the now blinding snow storm in a desperate effort to evade the invading Saxons.

 _Ah yes,_ thought Arthur. _What a woman! What spirit! What stamina! What the hell?_

The noise emanating from the wagon would have challenged a banshee. Arthur slowed his horse to a walk and stepped from it to the wagon. On boarding the wagon he realised the problem, his angel was awake and Dagonet, his trusted, loyal knight and friend was attempting to unravel a particularly grotty bandage wound around Guinevere’s obviously damaged hand. 

Easing his friend aside with a gentle, “bugger off.” Arthur proceeded to calm the one who had stolen his heart. He unwound the filthy bandage and looked at her misshapen fingers.

“Some of your fingers are out of place. I have to push them back. If I don’t do this, there’s a chance you may never use them again,” he explained, as he gently lifted Guinevere’s deformed hand. “Please, let me help you?”

With a slight nod Guinevere agreed and braced herself for the pain she knew would follow.

“Stop” she cried, before he could even begin.

Attempting to ease her fears, Arthur responded to her nervousness, “I promise to be as gentle as I can but it will still hurt. I am sorry,” 

“I know that but what do I get when you are done?” she crisply replied. 

“Excuse me?”

“Well, if I have to sit here while you fiddle with my fingers, what do I get for enduring such pain?”

“Working fingers?” he answered, somewhat confused by her question.

“Try again.”

“My admiration?”

“No.”

“Umm, I may be able to get you some confection, would that make it better?

“What’s confection?” asked his bewildered, pimple-free, puberty laden angel.

“Sweets. Sugary treats. Little bits of heaven that melt in your mouth and give you the feeling that everything is all right in your world. Downside of course is that a little on the lips puts pounds on the hips, but I’m sure a few won’t hurt you at your age and…”

“…Oh for the love of your god, shut up! All right I get the point. Hmmm, maybe some sweeties might make this agony more bearable,” sighed Guinevere. “Promise I can have as much as I want?”

“I promise.”

“Proceed,” ordered Guinevere as she offered her damaged hand.

“Ooow,” she cried, as Arthur began to realign her fingers one at a time.

“Ouch,” Arthur cried out equally distressed, as his angel smacked him with her undamaged hand. “Don’t do that...”

“Stop it, you brute. You’re hurting me.”

“I’m hurting you? I didn’t dislocate them in the first place. Now stop squirming and _LET ME HELP YOU_ damnit. I’m only doing this because I care.”

“Ooow,” she howled. “What do you do to people you don’t care about?”

“Dislocate their fingers!!”

“Bastard…”

“Hold still,” Arthur implored as he grappled to keep Guinevere’s hand steady while she continued to try to squirm out of his reach. “Almost done,” he assured her breathlessly, as he fought to gain control of the disintegrating situation.

On hearing the cacophony, the remaining knights, all except Tristan who was scouting the whereabouts of the Saxons, rode to the wagon to provide assistance, if required. The desperate cries of the rescued and rescuer reverberated above the howling winds of the winter blizzard. Indeed, it was safe to say that, if the Saxon’s were nearby they would have been wise to retreat because the knights were now convinced they had liberated a foe much more formidable than any barbarian army.

_Whack!!!_

“Mother of god, woman! I’m just trying to help you. ” 

_Slap!!!_

“What was that for?” 

“You hurt me.”

“Of course I hurt you. Naturally it’s going to hurt but it’s for a good cause isn’t it? The more I stretch your grotesquely mangled fingers and realign them now, the more you can beat me with your two functioning hands in the future. Now stop hitting me and let me finish,” Arthur pleaded.

_Thump!!!_

_The Saxons couldn’t be this much trouble,_ Arthur thought as he ducked another swing from the woman of his dreams.

“God give me strength,” muttered Arthur, “all done. There love, just relax,” he cooed as he rapidly backed away from the woman as if she were a rabid dog. 

“She’s all yours” Arthur told a stunned Dagonet. “Good luck,” he yelled as he leapt from the wagon in a mighty display of self preservation.

As Arthur mounted his stead, he and his men listened in horror to Guinevere’s dulcet tones, which they swear had dropped an octave, as she commanded Dagonet to, “Back away from the hand, _NOW_!” 

“Sister of Satan,” declared Galahad as he watched Dagonet suddenly cower in a far corner of the tiny wagon. “What the hell is that?” he asked, unsure what had happened to the frail, barely breathing girl they had carried out of the catacomb.

Undeterred by the effect she was having on the knights she continued her tirade, “Don’t even think about touching my fingers with your meaty, dirt-covered digits and make sure the chunky one out there doesn’t come near me either,” she decreed, pointing to Bors! 

Riding next to the wagon, Bors, eyes bulging at the verbal attack, looked at Arthur and then back to the Guinevere, asking indignantly, “Who’s she calling chunky?”

“You!” she haughtily retorted.

“Why you bony-arsed, overbearing bitch, I am all man. I am a warrior,” Bors spat back.

“All fat you mean. Arthur, is this why you haven’t given me my sweeties yet, because Wally the Warrior here has gorged himself into blubber land?

“What the…”sputtered Bors as he prepared to dismount and break Guinevere’s other hand.

“Bors,” shouted Arthur. “Control yourself! We are Knights of the Round Table. We rescue the enslaved, we don’t attack them.”

Bors stared at Arthur, surprised that he would defend this whining witch, but loyalty stopped him from further action or comment.

Satisfied that Bors was reined in, Guinevere then looked at Arthur and with a smile that would turn flesh to stone, said, “I’m just going to sit here quietly while you get my sweeties.” 

Arthur shivered, as he replied in his most _genial talk soothingly to the wild animals_ voice, “Soon my precious one. Just a little while longer and you can have all you want.”

Lancelot had watched the scene with morbid fascination and finally spluttered, “Ooh, Arthur, that’s one bonny lass. A lot of fight left in that one!” 

“Do you have a death wish Lance?” growled Arthur. “And stop drooling, knights don’t drool.” 

Gawain stared at his leader and asked wearily, “Arthur, why on earth did you promise her something you can’t give her yet? By the time we can find her sweets she’ll be feral and we’ll need to put up a sign warning _she may look beautiful but she bites_.” 

With that, Arthur could take no more and rode away to the top of a nearby knoll. There he looked to the tree-lined horizon and hoped that his trusted scout would return shortly from his rigorous scouting activities. Tristan was central to saving the ill-fated party and therefore, satisfying Arthur’s little bundle of joy that was salivating in the back of the wagon. 

As if on cue the Sarmatian scout burst forth from the forest, with his falcon perched on his arm, and breathlessly related to his frazzled leader what he had discovered.

“Arthur we must hurry. The Saxon’s are almost upon us. We must hasten to the top of the mountain, race down the far slope and onto a frozen lake which may not hold our weight but hey, if it does break then at least the Saxon’s won’t get us either. Anyway, once across the lake we will have to travel across the high plains before descending to the lowlands and after three days we should make the wall. Clever huh?” 

Arthur looked at his scout as if he had grown two heads. “You work this out all by yourself?”

“Ah, yes,” he admitted, and then added. “Bird helped, a bit.”

Arthur lunged for his friend and grabbed a fist full of braids and yanked the man towards him saying, in a voice that brokered no dissension, “We have bigger problems. I don’t care if the Saxon’s and all the Woad rebels are waiting for us on that lake, we have a situation here and if its not fixed soon it may be safer to side with the invaders. Do I make myself clear?”

The scout dared not utter a word but nodded his assent.

“Good,” said Arthur, as he released Tristan’s hair and gently patted his cheek. “Now, my dear friend, we need to return to the main party immediately.”

They two men raced down the hill to join the rest of their group. They found the other knights huddled together some distance from the evacuees, their eyes transfixed on something unseen and very loud that had obviously taken up residence in the wagon.

“Where’s Dagonet,” Tristan innocently asked looking at his terrified friends.

Galahad nodded his head in the direction of the wagon, “In there,” he solemnly explained. “He couldn’t escape.”

And then it happened…the curtain of the wagon was drawn back ever so slightly and two beady, yellow eyes peered out at the group. A bony hand then burst forth, fingers gnarled and grotesque reaching, beckoning for something or someone. Then there was the sound, a deep, blood curdling voice that caused the knights to collectively gasp and Arthur to shake uncontrollably. 

“Aaarthur you’re baaack!! Did you bring what you promised?”

Tristan gazed in horror at the disembodied limb and instinctively took a step back. However, thoughts of fleeing were dramatically cut short as Arthur grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his side, and then began to propel him towards the creature.

“Here love, this one carries what you seek,” declared Arthur as he wrestled with the scout who fought Arthur every step of the way.

“Arthur, give then to me _NOW_ ,” demanded the bone-jarring voice.

“For pity’s sake, give it to her Arthur, please I’m begging you,” screamed Dagonet from the depths of the wagon.

Tristan, stunned to hear Dagonet’s plaintive cry, briefly stopped struggling and with eyes fixed upon the wagon, stammered, “Aaarthur, _wha, what is it_?” 

“ _The…love…of …my…life_ ,” stated a breathless Arthur. “Now keep moving, * _gasp_ * _she_ is _xtremely_ anxious to see you * _pant_ *.”

As they neared the wagon, Arthur began fumbling through the knight’s pockets. This was quite a feat, since Tristan was wriggling violently, and Arthur could only use one hand at a time to search for the promised treats.

Finally accepting that he couldn’t hold Tristan and search him at the same time, he changed tact and in his most congenial voice, commanded, “Stop it Tristan! Stop squirming! I’m not going to hurt you; I just want some of your sweeties, that’s all. _SHE_ wants them. Come on Tristan just a few. Tide her over, so to speak, until we return to the fort.” 

Tristan stilled briefly and Arthur felt the knight relax a little. _Good,_ he thought. _Someone is at least listening to me._

However, his relief was short-lived as a horrific thought crossed his mind. Suddenly, he turned Tristan to face him and once again pinned the scout’s arms to his side. He stared at the startled knight and then began to shake him brutally, all the while repeating over and over, “Oh god have mercy on all our souls, you didn’t eat them all did you? _TELL ME THERE’S SOME LEFT?_ There’s some left isn’t there Tristan? _TELL ME,_ god damnit?” 

If he felt afraid before, Tristan was now terrified. Between being frisked and shaken by his psychotic commander and the increasingly insane demands for sweets by the creature, Tristan made an all out effort to break free. His screams of terror were accompanied by equally hysterical pleas from the other knights, who remained at a safe distance from the wagon, to just give her the sweets so they could all have some peace. Amid the ensuing fracas, Tristan toppled to the ground and desperately tried to crawl through the snow drifts to freedom. Arthur hunted him down and leapt on his back all the while shoving his hands into all Tristan’s secret places seeking hidden stashes. The demon voice continued to wail for sweeties and Dagonet finally saw an opportunity to escape and leapt from the wagon before the she devil realised he was gone.

The entire situation had reached fever-pitch when above the screams and cries of the knights and the possessed came the steady beat of barbarian drums. 

_Deliverance,_ thought Tristan.

 _Battle,_ thought Arthur.

 _Damn, another bloody delay_ thought Guinevere.

“To the lake, we will fight them on the lake,” ordered Arthur

As the weary group of peasants shuffled across the frozen lake, the knights lined up ready to fight the invading Saxon’s thereby giving the refugees’ time to escape annihilation at the enemy’s hand.

“Weapons ready,” called their leader and turning to Tristan he added. “And that reminds me, don’t you suck your way through any of those sweets, wherever they are stashed, I still want them. They have been promised to another. Do you understand me? Eat them and I will personally deliver you the Saxons.”

Tristan was going to argue but he thought of his options and short of fighting Arthur to the death on the ice; decided this was one fight that could wait until the current altercation had been resolved. 

The mood of the group had lightened considerably once they were occupied in knightly pursuits such as preparing weapons and laying out arrows in readiness for battle. Their reprieve was short-lived however, as a voice announced from behind them, “Thought you could use another bow.” 

As one they turned to stare at the devil incarnate. However, Arthur was torn between utter admiration for her determination to help them and utter terror that she would ask for the sweeties. His thoughts were interrupted as the Saxons, war drums beating rhythmically, marched onto the ice and faced the party of eight defenders.

“Hold until I give the command,” ordered Arthur.

It should have been so simple. Arthur ordering them to prepare to fight and they in turn would stand ready to fight but oh no, there was always one who wanted to stir the pot.

“God forbid, we have our own opinion on when to fire,” countered Lancelot. 

“Oh shut up Lance. Its fight or flight time. You choose.”

“As if I could just totter off and leave you lot with gung-ho Ginny and the rampaging Saxon’s,” muttered Lancelot.

Arthur, hoping that he had quelled further argument, returned his attention to the enemy but the battle had to wait as Guinevere and Lancelot were at it again. Lancelot commented that Guinevere seemed afraid of the large number of lonely men facing them on the ice.

She in turn sarcastically replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t let them rape you,” 

“Right, that’s it Arthur,” screamed Lancelot as he threw his bow to the ice. “She has to go. I tried being nice but she is just a pain in the arse. Can’t we give her to the Saxon’s and tell them she’s a secret weapon. I’m sure she can nag them to death and save us an unnecessary fight.”

“Lance enough. There are bigger issues at hand than these petty disputes…”

“…That woman is evil Arthur, pure evil. Why can’t you see it?”

“Oh please, weren’t you drooling over her just a few hours ago?”

“Arthur I’ve spent the afternoon waiting for her head to spin around."

“Oh please!”

“Seriously Arthur, I’ve had time to assess the situation and as a result have reconsidered my position.”

“And your position is?”

“Tie her hands behind her back, drop her in the water and if she floats then we can take her out and burn her at the stake as a witch.”

“Lance!”

“Arthur??”

“I swear, after this is over and we…”

“…Since we have so much time to chat, where’s my sweeties Arthur?” asked Guinevere who promptly left her place on the firing line and stood in front of Tristan, hand outstretched in expectation.

“Not in this lifetime,” Tristan promptly replied.

“Arthur?” Guinevere called, all the while staring at Tristan.

“Not now my love, we have a battle to fight. Later I promise.”

“YES! _NOW_!”

“Back off bitch,” Tristan shouted, as she stepped towards him.

It was down hill from there, as Tristan and Guinevere went tooth and nail over the sweets. Arthur threw his bow to the ground and stormed towards the pair, screaming at them to cease and desist. Meanwhile, as the shouting match escalated, Dagonet, dragging the tip of his sword on the ice behind him, began to walk in wide circles around and around Guinevere.

Arthur finally noticed Dagonet, after the fifth time the knight went past and asked, “Dagonet what are you doing?” 

“Ice fishing, just found some good bait!” he droned, as he continued on his way for a sixth pass.

“Stop it you moron and get back in line,” roared an exasperated Arthur.

For their part, Cynric, the Saxon leader, and his army watched the antics of the opposing group with absolute disbelief. They had a battle to fight and here was their enemy arguing about sweets and ice fishing? What was the world coming to, when a large and vicious invading army was overshadowed by local squabbles? He had had enough. The Saxons wanted to fight and by the gods they would fight. They hadn’t come all this way to watch their enemy fight amongst themselves. 

In a desperate effort to get the battle underway, if for no other reason than they were cold, Cynric ordered one of his archers to launch an arrow at the arguing group across the frozen lake. Unfortunately for them they were out of range, indicated of course by the sight of the arrow falling well short of its target as it slid across the ice harmlessly.

“We’re out of range,” commented one of the Saxon commanders.

“You think?” replied Cynric sarcastically.

Arthur looked to the opposing Saxons in time to see an arrow flying towards his position. Tristan and Guinevere, of course, were too interested in bickering to notice the battle had begun. Lancelot was in a heated discussion with Bors, Galahad and Gawain about inventive ways to bring about the demise of the Lady Guinevere, and Dagonet was still sulking over the fishing thing. Sighing, Arthur tried garnering their attention and gaining control before they were overrun by the marauding Saxons. 

He turned to his warriors and proclaimed, “Knights, the enemy is in our midst.”

With that declaration, the men grasped their weapons, moved into a tight cluster and drew their bows.

“That’s not funny. Now cut it out and line up. Guinevere is on our side, in case you didn’t know.”

The small group finally, albeit reluctantly, lined up to face the Saxons. Taking advantage of the fact the group was at last focused on the battle; Arthur ordered Tristan and Bors to give the Saxons an invitation, by firing their arrows at the invaders.

“We’re out of range,” remarked Guinevere.

“ _We’re out of range_ ,” mimicked Lancelot.

“Enough,” ordered Arthur. “Your enemy is in front of you, not next to you.”

“My enemy is that tattooed sweeties whore,” Guinevere screamed at Tristan.

“Who are you calling a whore you slag? I wouldn’t give you a sweet if this was my last moment on earth,” retorted an enraged Tristan.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. “At this rate it may well be…”

Any further argument was interrupted, as the Saxon, Cynric, shouted across the icy expanse, “Oh for the love of the Gods, someone please give her a bloody sweetie so this battle can begin.”

It’s one thing to argue amongst themselves but another for an outsider to interfere. So eight pairs of eyes turned to the meddling Saxons and as one, eight bows were raised and arrow after arrow was unleashed on the unfortunate enemy. The Saxons tried to surge forward but the ice began to groan under their weight. In an effort to thwart their advance Dagonet grabbed his battle axe and raced forward to puncture the ice. Arthur ordered his group to provide covering fire, as Dagonet hacked at the surface finally causing it to fracture. A series of cracks splintered off from where Dagonet stood and ran towards the Saxons. The ice broke apart, sending many of the invaders to the bottom of the freezing lake.

Ah victory was sweet, thought Arthur as we watched the remains of the Saxon army retreat to the shoreline and disappear into the forest. Yes they had managed to defeat the enemy and provide the refugees with a safe journey to the wall. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all… 

“Arthur?” _or not _thought Arthur. “Can I have my sweeties now?”__

__“In a minute my love, why don’t you head across the lake and try to catch up to the others.”_ _

__“But Arthur…”_ _

__“Come now my love. You’ve fought hard and you are still weary from your imprisonment. Go rest and I will bring you a surprise.”  
“Promise?”_ _

__“I promise. Now off you go.”_ _

__He watched her leave and then pointing to his scout, commanded, “You. Here. _NOW_.” _ _

__Tristan edged towards his commander when he was almost face to face with his leader, Arthur’s hand shot out and grabbed his throat._ _

__“Where…are…the…sweets?”_ _

__“I…I don’t have them anymore,” Tristan gasped._ _

__“Are you telling me that you sucked or chewed your way through your entire stash of sweets?”_ _

__“Arthur let go…ppleease”_ _

__“Don’t you understand the entire stability of the fort depends on that woman getting those sweets? So let’s try again. What happened to them? Where are they?”_ _

__“I gave them up…”_ _

__“Gave them to whom?”_ _

__“No. I stopped eating them. Bad for my teeth. Eat apples instead.”_ _

__Arthur released his hold and stared wide-eyed at his scout._ _

__“You eat apples?”_ _

__Tristan nodded, stepped back and rubbed his throat._ _

__“Apples? I hunted you down for…apples?” Arthur said. “Oh dear God, I promised her sweeties. What am I supposed to do now?”_ _

__“Apples are sweet,” replied Tristan._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“I said apples are sweet.”_ _

__“Apples are sweet. Yes, yes they are, aren’t they? I’ll have to convince her that apples are a special sweetie. Anyone have any idea how I can do that?”_ _

__The six knights looked at their leader and collectively said, “ **NO**.”_ _

__“All right, I get the point. Yes I’ve been a little stressed today but she is special.”_ _

__“A little obsessive you mean,” grumbled Tristan, subconsciously rubbing his throat again._ _

__“I’m sorry, all right. I’m sorry. So any suggestions?”_ _

__“ **NO**.”_ _

__“Fine, I’ll sort it out by myself.”_ _

__The knights watched Arthur set off across the lake after Guinevere and he was last heard calling sweetly, “My angel, do you like apples?”_ _

__

__**THE END** _ _


End file.
